


The Storm

by I_am_Best



Series: Wander Writes [4]
Category: Wander Over Yonder
Genre: Gen, the amorphous ion storm makes a return
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 04:52:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11502156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_am_Best/pseuds/I_am_Best
Summary: Some days, it ached. When it was about to rain, or when an ion storm was picking up out in the unpredictable void of space.





	The Storm

**Author's Note:**

> A request for hamatopurity on tumblr for some Nomad Hunter focusing on Ripov's hook foot. Supposed to be angst, but mostly just suggestions of it.

Some days, it ached. When it was about to rain, or when an ion storm was picking up out in the unpredictable void of space. Ripov kept it to herself, mostly. She never had reason to bring it up before now.

The sky was clear today, but her leg had a bone-deep throb below the knee. Ripov tried to hide the slight hobble it gave her as she walked over to Wander. He had his little orbble bubble wand out, eyes turned skyward.

"Hey!" she called out, waving to get his attention.

He waited until she was nearly on him to reply.

"Hello, Miss Ripov! I was just about to head out."

"You don't need to call me miss. And listen, I think an ion storm's going to pick up soon. Should hold off on orbbling anywhere until it's over."

Without even questioning her reasons, Wander tucked the wand back into its bottle, and the bottle back into his hat. "Gosh, thanks! That woulda been scary t' be caught up in."

"No problem." Good deed done for the day, Ripov turned to walk away.

Wander, however, wasn't quite so done. He trotted after her like a lost dog.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said shortly, hoping he'd take the hint. Ripov had grown more fond of him over their time rebuilding the galaxy, but old aches in her phantom limbs reminded her of old phantoms that still caused her heart to ache. It was a solitary sort of pain, one she didn't want to burden the cheery little nomad with.

Wander followed her all the way to her ship. She had a little rest area set up in its shadow, and dropped heavily into the old fold-out chair. Wander sat at her foot.

He was staring at her.

"What?"

"You sure nuthin's ailin' ya, Mi-- Ripov? I noticed you limpin' earlier."

Ripov nudged him with her boot. Wander just giggled. It looked like he wasn't going away. She pulled off her boot and stuck her hook-leg out.

"I lost this at the Fabrix Lavadrome."

"And it aches when there's an ion storm a-brewin'?" Wander asked, skipping over the usual, stupid questions that Ripov hated -- how, what was it like, did it hurt? (Arachnomorph, there was a lot of blood and fire and screaming and good men lost, and no _duh_ it hurt.) He took her hook in his hand, since it was jutting out right at his face, and began to explore its rough, scarred surface with his fingers.

"Or if it's about to rain."

Wander smiled up at her, and Ripov looked away, blushing.

"Always good t' know if there's rain on the horizon."

"I guess." Ripov shrugged dismissively, feeling strange, but not in a bad way, about how casually Wander was touching her. He was weird like that, she'd come to find out. No sense of personal space.

They sat like that for several minutes, saying nothing. Soon, the blue of the sky began to shimmer with translucent, golden sheets. Wander tilted his head back to watch. From their vantage point, it seemed calm, but it would have torn through an orbble and any occupant unfortunate to be caught in it in only a few, agonizing seconds. "Your leg was right about that storm," he said like he hadn't just about been said occupant.

Ripov grunted in agreement.

"Is it achin' more, now?"

Ripov shrugged. It was getting worse, but she didn't like to show it.

"It might be the all this metal reactin' to the charge buildin' up in the atmosphere," Wander said like Ripov had actually spoken. "Usually prostheses have some bufferin' but this, bein' a homebrew sorta deal..." he trailed off, as though chewing on his next words. "Do y'mind if I take it off?"

"Uh, no?" Ripov said, caught off guard by Wander's question and his knowledge of prostheses, though from what she'd learned from Sylvia, he knew a little bit about everything except people. She suspected he knew more about people, too, than he let on. "I guess not. I mean, you can't mess it up any more than it already is."

"I'll sure try not to."

Ripov braced herself as Wander carefully unscrewed the hook from its socket. He set it aside and began to massage the soreness from Ripov's stump, unbothered by the scars or the tube jutting a centimeter out. She hadn't had the time or the resources to make it look pretty, but it was functional.

It did begin to feel better without the hook attached, like pulling off a low voltage wire, but Ripov felt exposed. She couldn't fight or run (never run, not anymore) like this. It put her at a tactical disadvantage.

"I don't really like to take it off," Ripov said once the silence got to be too much, pulling away from Wander's touch. She quickly screwed the hook back on. Though she missed the warmth of his touch, and the metallic taste of electric charges was building in her teeth again, she already felt more secure.

"It's safe, now," Wander said, his expression only a little disappointed.

"I don't think I know what safe is."

Wander climbed into her chair, ignoring the rusty groan at his added weight, and Ripov let him settle in the small space beside her. He tucked himself up under her chin. Above, the ion storm continued to rage, moving into deeper color tones and faster sheets. Ripov's leg ached, reminding her to always be on guard, even in the calm, but Wander's furry body pressed against her side was distracting, promising that she didn't have to be. This was an entire planet of survivors and fighters and lovers of their galaxy. Ripov wasn't alone with her ghosts anymore.

Wander huffed a happy little sigh as Ripov's arm came to rest tentatively around him. Small steps. "You'll have plenty of time to learn."


End file.
